


maybe just talking

by paravin



Series: just a different kind [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kink Negotiation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: Saint and Osiris help Crow to set some limits.
Relationships: The Crow/Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Series: just a different kind [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180688
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	maybe just talking

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you just want to write a whole fic about kink negotiation, I guess?? I will write proper smut at some point soon but this is 100% dumb self-indulgence

“Do we really need to do this?”

Crow’s voice is barely audible beneath the whistle of steam and Saint pauses in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“Yes,” Osiris says flatly, “we do. Pass me the milk.”

Mugs clink against the countertop for a moment before Crow tries again. “I know I screwed up last time but-”

“You didn’t screw up,” Osiris corrects, almost gentle. (Almost.) “We should have discussed it ahead of time. It was mine and Saint’s mistake, and one we won’t repeat.”

“I’m fine,” Crow says. “It’s rare enough that we get time off together — we don’t need to waste it talking about this. I’m happy with whatever you guys are in the mood for. I can take it, I promise.”

Saint knows Osiris well enough to guess how this conversation is likely to escalate, and he pushes the door open before Osiris can reply, announcing proudly, “I found the little marshmallows!”

He ignores the flash of guilt on Crow’s face as he enters, and looms over Osiris’ shoulder to inspect the preparation of the hot cocoa. “You need to leave room for marshmallows.”

Osiris glances back. “I know how to pour dri-”

He’s cut off with a yelp as Saint nibbles on the shell of his ear. Cocoa slops over the side of the mug and Osiris elbows him in the stomach as he pulls away, laughing. “That doesn’t count.”

Saint kisses him on the head by way of apology and slides one mug down to Crow. “You will have marshmallows?”

From Crow’s frown, these are new and Osiris explains, “They’re aerated sugar. You’ll like them.”

Retrieving a small white one from the bag, Saint holds it up to Crow’s mouth as a sample and Crow eats it from his fingers with suspicion. His nose crinkles at first but he looks up at Saint brightly as he swallows.

“Good, yes?”

“The texture is odd,” Crow says, pondering. “Like some of the ethergrubs on the Shore, but sweeter.”

Saint recoils. “You have _eaten_ ethergrubs?”

Crow looks up at him with wide eyes but Saint decides to barrel on before Crow can offer either an apology or an explanation. (From experience, Saint knows that both of those only make it worse.)

“Never mind,” he says, pushing another marshmallow between Crow’s parted lips. “No bugs here. Only sugar. I will give you ten.”

He counts them out carefully, wedging them into every available inch of Crow’s mug, and then dumps a handful in his own before heading through to the couch. While the snow is just about melting outside, there’s still a chill in the air, and he lets out a little huff when he sees Crow pad through after him. 

Saint’s old hoodie hangs down almost to his knees but Crow’ legs and feet are bare beneath it, and Saint’s voicebox rumbles with disapproval. “Sit. You will catch a chill.”

Crow rolls his eyes even as he settles obediently between Saint’s legs, his shoulder against Saint’s chest and his legs slung over Saint’s thigh. “It isn’t that cold.”

“It’s freezing,” Osiris grumbles. He, at least, is well-insulated, bundled up in a pair of Saint’s pajama pants and the sweater Crow gifted him before his most recent expedition to Europa. His socked feet wiggle against Saint’s thigh as he makes himself comfortable on the other end of the couch. “Remind me to run some tests on your body temperature tomorrow. This seems abnormal.”

Crow goes still and Saint chuckles as he kisses his cheek. “He is joking. He is grouchy whenever it is not hot — there is a reason he spent so long on Mercury.”

“I was studying the Infinite Forest!”

“In the glorious sunshine,” Saint teases.

Crow laughs and Osiris’ half-hearted scowl is dislodged by Saint’s foot nudging against his thigh in return. He sips his cocoa, relaxing back against the cushions, and Saint is careful not to spill his own drink as he reaches for the tablet on the side table.

Crow lets out a quiet groan, squirming on Saint’s lap. “We don’t need to-”

“We do,” Saint says but kisses him again anyway. He sets the tablet in Crow’s lap and tries to reassure him, “This is not a punishment, little bird. You have not done anything wrong.”

From the way Crow looks down, he doesn’t believe him and Saint presses a firmer kiss to his temple, as though the force of it could just burn all his insecurities away. 

He taps on the tablet while Crow takes a drink, and says, “This is the short version-”

Crow does a double-take when he sees the length of it. “Short?!”

“Shush,” Saint chides, “I am explaining.”

Crow quietens, mug cupped in both hands, and Saint strokes through the hair at the nape of his neck in reward. “Osiris and I have both entered what we like. All you need to do is think whether there is anything you do not enjoy.”

He can feel the tension in Crow’s body, even as he skims the list. “I can do whatever you both want.” 

Saint sighs but Crow pushes on, “I mean it, I won’t make the same mistake as last time. I’m a quick learner.”

“You are,” Osiris says, “but this is a question of reaction, not preparation. I saw how you responded last week when Saint mentioned punishment.”

It isn’t an accusation but they both know when Crow takes it as one.

“It is not a failing,” Saint says gently. He reaches down to the tablet and drags ‘punishments’ to the ‘No’ column. “We all have things we don’t enjoy. It is more than understandable, after what Osiris told me about the Spider.”

Crow shakes his head, frustrated. “This is nothing like him. You wouldn’t-”

“Of course not,” Saint promises. 

“Then it should stay,” Crow says, gesturing to the list. “I’m good at taking punishment, and you both enjoy it. You shouldn’t have to avoid it because of me.”

“We enjoy a lot of things,” Osiris points out, calm as always. “Besides, it isn’t like Saint needs punishment as an excuse to use his toys.”

Saint chuckles, nuzzling under Crow’s jaw. “It’s true. I am very creative.”

Osiris rolls his eyes but some of the tension leaves Crow’s shoulders at the touch. “Okay,” he says with a little nod, “if you’re both sure.” 

“We’re sure,” Saint says. It’s an effort not to puff up with pride at the sight of Crow finally setting some limits but he keeps his voice light as he prompts, “What about the rest? Is there any type of sex you don’t like?”

Crow’s brow furrows in concentration as he reads, stopping occasionally for sips of cocoa. “No, we already did most of these and I liked them.” He pauses, gaze darting to the front of Saint’s pants as he points at the tablet. “Is this one even possible?”

Saint reads over his shoulder. “Ah, both of us at the same time?”

“With some very thorough preparation, yes,” Osiris answers, and Saint knows he’s smirking behind his mug. “We would need to work up to it.”

“Or we can put it on the ‘no’ list,” Saint reminds them. “We are being cautious, remember?”

“No, I want to try that,” Crow says happily.

From the way Osiris chokes on his drink, he’s apparently having a similar reaction to Saint, and Saint starts to wonder if having this discussion with Crow on his lap was a bad idea.

Unfazed, Crow shifts position to fold his legs up, resting the tablet on his thighs and wedging his bare feet beneath Saint’s leg for warmth. He dips a finger in his cup and absently licks marshmallow foam off his finger before he admits, embarrassed, “I don’t know what some of these are.”

“That is okay,” Saint says. “We can explain. Or we can leave those out for now.”

They’ve sparred together enough times for Saint to recognise Crow’s look of determination even before he says, “Teach me? What does ‘instructions’ mean? Is that like an assignment?”

“A little,” Saint says, and ignores Osiris’ snort of laughter. “We do this sometimes when one of us is away. One person, uh, pleasures themselves and the other gives instructions via comms.”

“Slower, faster, start, stop,” Osiris says. “That kind of thing.”

“He is selling himself short,” Saint stage-whispers into Crow’s ear. “He and his instructions are very filthy.”

Osiris laughs again, reaching down to pinch one of Saint’s toes, but Saint doesn’t miss the way Crow’s gaze lingers on him, his lower lip caught between his teeth. 

That one stays on the ‘yes’ list.

“What about ‘sensory deprivation’?” Crow asks. “Is that like blinding?”

“Just with a blindfold,” Saint clarifies. He tries not to think too hard about how regularly Crow jumps to awful assumptions. “But yes. It’s taking away senses, like a gag in your mouth, or mitts on your hands, or plugs in your ears.”

He feels Crow freeze at that. 

He and Osiris exchange a glance but they both stay quiet as Crow stammers, “I, uh- I don’t like not being able to hear.”

“That’s okay,” Saint soothes. “We will avoid the earplugs.”

“The other things are fine,” he says, almost apologetic. “I just- there was this crash and-”

“You don’t need to explain,” Osiris says. “These type of preferences don’t require justifications.”

“I know,” Crow says. “I want to.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m supposed to be talking, right?” 

He holds the mug tighter as he takes a breath, not looking at either of them. “Soon after I revived, my ship hit some debris. Spider’s men rescued me eventually but I was in space for a while. It was-” He swallows hard. “It was quiet.”

Some disjointed pieces start to slot into place and Saint rests an arm around Crow’s shoulders in silent comfort. Osiris’ eyes are dark as he says, “You did well to survive. I’ve seen Guardians reduced to madness in the vacuum.”

Saint shudders at the thought of it, reviving again and again in the choking silence of the void, and he squeezes Crow’s shoulder as he asks softly, “Suffocation?”

That was one discovery they made outside the bedroom, when Crow panicked at being caught in a headlock during sparring. While Saint already has breathplay squarely on the ‘no’ list as a result, the confirmation is useful.

Crow gets his meaning and nods, cheeks heating with shame. “Spider realised too. He never threw me back out there but he- he had this noose-”

He cuts himself off, breath hitching, and Saint pulls him in closer. “Shhh,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Crow’s hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Crow’s hands are shaking as he nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry,” Saint says. “I am very glad you told us.” 

He kisses him again and returns the contact when he feels Osiris’ foot brush the inside of his calf. “I still would like to headbutt the Spider to death one day,” he says honestly, “but Osiris tells me untraceable poisons are better. He is very smart.”

That gets a smile from Crow, even as he rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand, and Osiris drawls from the other end of the couch, “Are you planning to fight the vacuum of space too?”

“You think I would not win?” Saint says, with feigned offense. “The void is no match for Saint-14!”

Crow laughs at that, unfurling, and Saint gives Osiris a tiny nod. 

“Do you want a break?” Osiris asks, stretching his legs out. “We can send Saint to make some more cocoa. Evidently I don’t meet his exacting standards.”

Crow shakes his head as he drains the last of his drink and passes the mug to Saint to set aside. “I’m okay.” He glances down at the list. “Although I think I lost my place.”

Reaching over, Saint flicks ‘sensory deprivation’ into the ‘no’ column and reads the next one on the screen. “Ah, lingerie!”

Crow blinks up at him. “Is that pasta?”

“No!” Saint booms over the noise of Osiris’ laughter. “It is like fancy underwear. With frills.”

“Oh.” Crow looks down at himself, puzzled. “Am I supposed to wear it?”

“You certainly have the hips for it,” Osiris says, appraising, “but that one is more of Saint’s specialty. He’s very fond of his garters.”

“I have excellent legs,” Saint says proudly.

From Crow’s frown, he’s still struggling to picture it and Saint pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I will show you and you can decide later.”

They leave that one in the ‘maybe’ column but Saint hesitates as Crow scrolls downward to some of the more pain-oriented options. 

They’d been thorough in compiling the list, hoping to flag any lingering problem areas from Crow’s time with the Spider, but Saint’s lights flicker in surprise when Crow says confidently, “I’m all right with all of these.”

From the little they’ve played, it’s been clear how much Crow enjoys pain. While Saint excised some of the heavier activities already — he draws the line at knives in the bedroom — there’s plenty of intense options still on the table.

Saint’s careful to keep his tone light as he says, “You sure? You can always rule some out.”

Crow scans the list again. “I think I’ve been hit with all of these before, I know what they feel like.” 

Saint takes a deep, soothing breath and tries not to think too long about Crow being beaten in a less enjoyable context.

Crow pauses. “Wait, does paddle mean for a boat?”

“Not quite,” Osiris says, unruffled. “Similar shape and still wooden but much smaller, with a handle to make it easier to wield.” 

He holds up his hands to demonstrate and Crow’s eyes light up in recognition. “ _Kiskan_.”

Saint blinks. “Kiss who?”

Osiris smirks. “The Eliksni word for paddle, I believe.”

“Oh.” A breath. “ _Oh._ ”

“I think I like that better than a boat paddle,” Crow says, oblivious. “Or, well, I didn’t at the time but here…”

“It can be the pleasing kind of pain,” Osiris finishes for him, and Crow’s eyes brighten with enthusiasm. “I agree — I think the paddle will be a good fit.”

The edges of Crow’s masochism line up nicely with Osiris’ rarely-indulged sadistic streak, and the matching smiles on both their faces go a long way to calming Saint’s racing processors. 

“This is good,” he says, patting Crow on the shoulder. “We have made much progress.”

“There’s just one more left,” Crow says but his brows knit together when he reads it. “‘Humiliation’?”

“Ah.” Saint’s fingers move to Crow’s hair again, carding through the dark strands. “That one is difficult sometimes.”

“I don’t like it,” Crow says softly. “Spider used to-” He stops himself but there’s a welcome decisiveness to his voice when he says, “I don’t want other people to see me like that.”

More ugly pieces fit together. Crow’s cheek is warm beneath Saint’s mouth as he kisses him with the promise, “Never. Everything we do is just for us. _Only_ us.”

Crow peeks back down at the list, double-checking. “I thought you both liked it?”

“It’s a complicated beast,” Osiris says. “Much of it will come with time, as you learn what the other party likes and dislikes.”

He moves closer down the couch, resting one hand on Crow’s shoulder as the other curls against Saint’s thigh, and he shapes the words better than Saint could. “We can avoid it entirely if you prefer but it’s not all as unpleasant as what I suspect Spider subjected you to.” His thumb brushes Crow’s neck, stroking over his pulse as he says, “Last week, for example, when I had you open yourself up for me and tell me how it felt.”

Crow’s eyes dart up to meet Osiris’ and Saint watches the blush rise high on his cheeks.

Osiris smiles, soft and teasing. “It was embarrassing, no? Having to spread your legs and spell out exactly what you were hoping I’d do to you?”

Crow nods. 

“But you enjoyed it?”

Another nod, and Osiris tuts as he leans in to kiss Crow’s cheek. “Use your words, _little bird_.”

Saint’s about to step in — Crow’s supposed to be making decisions without this kind of influence, however fun it may be for all of them — but Osiris pulls back, holding Crow’s gaze.

“I- Yes,” Crow says. It takes him a breath to gather himself but the dazed look fades as he nods. “It was embarrassing but I enjoyed it.”

“That’s partly what we mean by humiliation,” Osiris explains. “It can be very satisfying but there are layers and limits within it, some of which can change by the hour. It’s just a matter of finding where you are most comfortable and where you are not.”

His hesitation is well disguised but Saint still catches it as Osiris continues, “Take myself, for example. I wouldn’t enjoy being taunted for my lack of strength now that I’ve lost my light.”

Crow’s eyes go wide. “I would never-”

Osiris holds a hand up. “I know. But by the same token, Saint very much enjoys being restrained and taunted for his lack of strength when he can’t break free.” 

Saint can’t help the way his fingers twitch at the memory, and Osiris’ eyes are warm as he glances at him over Crow’s head.

“We all have different preferences,” Osiris continues. “I’m sure there are many things you’d enjoy being called in the right circumstances but some you’d hate, even coming from me and Saint.”

“Worthless,” Crow answers, almost as a reflex. 

Saint knows Osiris is committing it to memory just as he is.

“Exactly,” Osiris says, and kisses him again in reward. “The details are a discussion for another time, perhaps, but you understand the principle.”

Crow nods. His fingers hover over the screen but when ‘humiliation’ remains firmly in the ‘yes’ column, Saint gives his shoulder a squeeze in reassurance. “You’ve done a good job, little bird. I know this can be difficult.”

As always, Crow can’t hide his smile at the praise and Osiris gives him one last kiss on the lips before he moves back down to the other end of the couch. 

Revelling in their success, Saint rolls the crick out of his neck as he says, “You see! Sometimes it is nice just to talk.”

Osiris’ voice drips with playful sarcasm when he raises an eyebrow in Saint’s direction. “Yes, I’m sure Crow just wants to _talk_ right now.”

Saint looks to Crow, who offers a sheepish little shrug in reply.

Saint hums. “Oh, I see.”

He feigns a stretch, reaching his arms above his head, and Osiris just lifts his legs out of the way when Saint pounces, pushing Crow to the couch beneath him and tickling along his ribs. Crow’s squeak of surprise turns into helpless laughter and Saint hears Osiris chuckle above them as Crow squirms, trying half-heartedly to wriggle out of Saint’s hold. 

“Since you have been very good at decisions today,” Saint says, ceasing the tickles long enough for Crow to catch his breath, “you can make another one. What would you like to do this evening?”

Crow’s eyes shine as he looks up at him, flushed and eager. “The paddle.”

His lips curve in a smile, and Saint wonders if he and Osiris have become the architects of their own demise when Crow adds hopefully, “And maybe both of you at once?”


End file.
